A Breath's Chill
by reonhatoo
Summary: Winter is different to Annie.


Annie Leonhart, despite being known as a frigid ice queen, did not like the season of winter very much. It was much too cold and when she stepped into the snow, it almost instantaneously melted, soaking into whatever shoes and socks she had on that day. Despite having the grace of, per say, a swan on land, she almost always slipped and fell into a mound of snow when she trudged up bunny slopes.

Even with her bulging figure (no doubt due to the many layers of clothing she had on) she never felt quite warm.

Her best friend? Bertholdt Hoover adored winter. He was normally a warm person (and that means physically). He was basically a human heater. So naturally, Annie would stay close to him during this particular season, wanting to stop her shivering.

"Annie, are you cold?" He looked down at her-if he wasn't a tower compared to her it could be seen as bad, but Annie was never one for specifics.

"Shut up." She didn't look back at him, but he still smiled.

* * *

Bertholdt Hoover, she remembered, had a collection of cashmere scarves. They were mostly bought in the retail sections of their local supermarket or in thrift stores that never made them pricey. Regardless, he had mounds of colorful scarves that he wore during winter. One of them looked like Mikasa's; they were probably the same brand. He often wore a beautiful navy one, saying it was a gift from his mother when he was little. It was worn out from years of use, but it was still in good condition.

(She never asked to borrow one.)

There was a bit of rustling, and Annie was enveloped by cashmere fabric and heat. Her cheeks flushed a faint cherry red (from cold, from heat, from embarrassment, she didn't know) and he just smiled his stupid dopey smile.

She adjusted that scarf and held it up to her nose.

* * *

The color was navy blue, so she gave it back. He accepted it like a gift.

He wore an ombre one, almost like an aurora or the Northern lights. Just like her large world, the scarf seemed to change color every time the wind picked up ever so slightly or when he shuffled in his spot.

It reminded her of her ceiling, where she added glow in the dark stickers in different colors when she was four and still believed in the world.

He gave it to her. "You can keep it, I have a lot."

They kept walking for a while before Annie had the courage to speak. "Thank you." She muffled her mouth with the scarf. It smelled like vanilla and lemon cakes. It was like Bertholdt.

"You look nice in it. Y-You," he started to stutter, "look p-pretty."

Her lips were chapped and her nose was red and her skin was cold and dry. There was snot on her skin and a dry patch on her tongue, and yet the boy before her told her that she looked pretty without any hesitation.

(She never gave the scarf back.)

* * *

She stole them from time to time, grabbing it from his neck before walking again. He just grinned before putting on another one he brought. His collection of cashmere scarves was rapidly dwindling down. She just made a collection.

Winter was still Annie's least favorite season, but it didn't matter so much when she went out.

They wore matching cashmere scarves and everyone commented on it. Mostly Historia, who loved fashion with a passion.

"Remember how you stole that scarf, Annie?"

"...No." It was a juniper green one that she wore that day. She forgot the aurora one.

And he would sigh, but not in a patronizing way. He would chuckle and smile down at her. She would look up and give him a faint smile, the corners of her mouth barely, but still, tilting up.

He reached for her hand tentatively, covering her small, ungloved one with his gloved one. She didn't smile; her face remained as stone cold as ever. There was only the sloshing of chunky snow boots on wet snow.

She looked up at his towering figure and just saw a simple blush. Despite the icy wind, he was sweating. "A-Annie…."

"Hm?"

"I….um," he gulped, "like you…."

She muffled her mouth with the ombre scarf. "I know."

That was all she needed to say.

Bertholdt was glowing. He was like the sun.

* * *

Annie decided that winter wasn't her least favorite season anymore. She waited for a year before they finally got comfortable enough to do something other than holding hands and hugging.

He was wearing a navy blue beanie with his favorite scarf, a puffy grey jacket, and black pants with his snow boots. She was wearing her hoodie underneath a white puffy jacket, with blue jeans and her scarf.

It was cold, very cold. Yet he felt so warm to her. His heart was pounding against her hand. Her lips were chapped and cracked. He didn't care.

It was sweet and blissful, slow and calm and filled with waiting. Snow fell on top of them, coating their head and chilling their ears.

They stood in front of the local coffee shop. The lights showed the world around them. Amongst the frost, Bertholdt found something.

A lone flower, still alive and covered with frost.

He bent down and picked it up. It was a deep red carnation. Somehow, it was still here.

He put it in her hair quickly. It was out of the color scheme, but it only served to make her look a bit brighter.

Her face matched the color.

* * *

Winter would never be Annie's favorite, but she could stand it. With Bertholdt and his spring green eyes, she could manage.

Bertholdt waited for spring in the eyes of his ice cold queen.

Their layers would melt away.

* * *

She still wore the scarf. It got worn down and roughed up by weather conditions, but she knew she would continue to wear it.

"Well."

"Hm?"

"Now we both have a collection of cashmere scarves."

His laugh was bright and playful, melting her heart. He bent down to kiss her.

"I guess so," he mumbled through it.

She knew. The boy with cashmere scarves would keep her as warm as long as she wanted to stay warm.

"It's nice," she started, "to know that you'll be there, sunshine."

His breath was chilly that day.

* * *

 **They're still the OTP. This one is for my friend on deviantart. You know who you are. ;)**


End file.
